


reflect

by OnyxSphynx



Series: newmann one-shots [81]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M, the good ship hms introspective shit(tm)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 18:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19751044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphynx/pseuds/OnyxSphynx
Summary: In the end, it comes down to the fact that Hermann hates that he can't hate him.





	reflect

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "So I think I have like the best prompt. I think this is the format for it? The plus sign? "I’m not leaving. I don’t want you to leave either." + “It’s not up to me.”"

“You should leave,” Newt hisses at him, scarlet; the image of it, of Newton’s _indignance_ boils his blood; the hand on his arm not comforting, but warning as it grips tight enough to be uncomfortable.

Hermann sets his jaw and glares at Newt. “ _No,_ ” he says, coldly, “I was invited to this conference as well, _Doctor Geiszler,_ and I will not let you— _bully_ me into leaving because you hate me.”

He jerks his arm from the other’s grip, ignores the way his eyes widen, something almost—

_No._

It settles back into annoyance, smoothes over, a second later, into indifference. “Fine,” says Newton, “fine.” He drops his hand, the other coming up to muss his hair, casts Hermann one last, side-long glance, and pushes past him.

Hermann bites back the instinct to say _something._ Instead, he closes his eyes, draws in a breath, and runs through the contents of his presentation yet again; refuses to acknowledge the shakiness of his hand as it grips the cane, white-knuckled.

The memory of a younger Newton flashes in his mind; crow’s feet as he grins, hair wild—the way he lights up when he sees Hermann, then, in that second before Hermann opened his mouth and brought crashing to the ground what was, quite possibly, his deepest and most meaningful relationship to date.

His eyes snap open; followed, moments later, by a sharp exhalation.

People around him are beginning to stare; he can _feel_ their prying gazes; wants to, in turns, shout and rage and recoil from the attention.

He strides down the hall in the opposite direction.

* * *

It doesn’t go well.

This time, Hermann’s red-faced, shouting at Newton in front of a panel of colleagues—spitting words he’d never otherwise say.

Newton _incenses_ him.

Newton, he realises later, an ocean away from him, in a terrifying moment of clarity, makes his blood race in a way no one else ever has.

Newton _invigorates_ him.

“I’ll never see him again,” he says to his reflection—wonders if he’s trying to convince _himself_ of it more than just making a statement.

( _I want to,_ he doesn’t dare voice aloud.)

* * *

They’re in Lima when Hermann makes a mistake—sleep deprivation and the looming knowledge that there’ll be another attack and he doesn’t know _when,_ and—

The klaxon goes off; sends him crashing down from his tenuous perch on the ladder; hits his head on the concrete and sees white.

“—ann? Hermann!”

He tries to move his head, crack his eyes open and see where— _who_ —is shaking his shoulder—

Gasps.

“ _Hermann!_ ” A hand on his shoulder, now—Newton.

He grasps blindly, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the material of the biologist’s shirt.

His head is pounding, exacerbated by the wail of the kaiju-alert siren, and Newton’s voice barely manages to pierce through the fog descending on his mind.

“Hermann,” Newton says, again, once he finally manages to open his eyes; his gaze frighteningly soft. “Hermann, can you stand? We gotta get you to medical—”

“N—no,” Hermann manages, “I’m not leaving. I don’t want you to leave either. My work—” he stops, nearly knocked unconscious by a bolt of pain in his leg. “My work—Newton, I’m not—my calculations aren't—”

“I don’t _care,_ ” Newton snaps. “Hermann, you just _fell—_ ”

“This is my _job!_ People might _die,_ Geiszler, do you understand that? _It’s not up to me!_ —”

“I. _Don’t. Care!_ ”

The force of the words stuns Hermann into silence for a moment—not long, but just long enough that Newton scoops him up, inelegant, ignoring Hermann’s weak protests.

* * *

The next day, Hermann, still confined to a bed in medical, demands a damage report.

He doesn’t speak to Newton for three weeks.

* * *

He understands why Newton did it seven years later when he walks in on him seizing on the floor of the Hong Kong Shatterdome

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [pacificrimdyke](https://pacificrimdyke.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
